My Santiago

yet oh so lost!

We had our moments Had them then, Have them now.

And now in times of reverie, I wonder where she is. And how she has aged?

That older woman, A full two years past me,

With her soft yielding body, Her hair, shoulder - length, And her perfume mingled with the musk of her body. Her permissions granted to me for that one evening, With no questions asked, No guarantees given, No words spoken or looks exchanged;

Just there, Wordless, Soaked with meaning.

I wonder if she, The older woman, ever thinks… of me, In the same way I do of her?

Perhaps not; But I like to think she does!